


you've done nothing at all (to make me love you less)

by danahscott



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Injured Clarke, Near Death, bellamy is tired of clarke leaving him all the time, bellamy shaves. because i hate the beard. and no other reason, clarke is right and everyone is Dumb
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-08
Updated: 2019-05-20
Packaged: 2020-02-28 07:28:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18751807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/danahscott/pseuds/danahscott
Summary: No one wants Clarke around, and she knows she's bad for them. So she does the only thing she can think to do, something she's done before: she leaves. (Season 6 Canon Divergence)





	1. Leaving

**Author's Note:**

> hey friends! i love this season so much so far it's insane. but i must say, everyone hating clarke has been wearing on me, and if i were her i probably would go insane. so i was thinking damn why doesn't she just leave them. and then, a fic was born: ur welcome. 
> 
> things i ignore from the canon of the first two eps: murphy having a "weak pulse" (um??? get up u dramatic bitch!) and the ppl from sanctum lol. we don't need to talk about them (....for now). 
> 
> this is just bellarke angst.

Clarke decided to leave in the middle of the night, when everyone was sleeping. Bellamy's hands were no longer around her throat, but it had felt harder to breathe since then, and she didn't think it was just because of the ring of bruises that had already formed. The psychosis had come and gone. Clarke didn't know how soon it would come again, if it would at all, but she didn't want to linger long enough for it to again.

Unfortunately, those memories were still there, the look in Bellamy's eyes as he told her he didn't need her - something she had known for a while now. But she was caught by the hatred there, the pure hatred. When she'd woken up from cryo, and it was just the two of them, she'd almost forgotten that she'd betrayed her friends, almost gotten them killed, and that she was hated by the people she had once called family. And then Emori, Murphy, Raven, Shaw - then they woke up, and there was no forgetting anymore, not when they were always right there to remind her what she did.

But Bellamy, he'd hidden it so well. She'd almost thought it was just water under the bridge. Or maybe she'd just wished that - but clearly she was wrong. She was wrong about a lot of things. When they'd woken up after the psychosis, Clarke's throat had ached, and Bellamy looked at her with some sort of indecipherable expression. "Clarke," he'd said, his voice low and troubled, but then he'd felt the stab wound she'd given him earlier, and there were more pressing issues at hand. Like figuring out how any of them were going to look each other in the eyes after what they'd said and done.

Luckily, or maybe unluckily, Abby and the others came down, and Clarke didn't have to be the one to wrap Bellamy's wound. Playing doctor with any of her old friends felt like more deja vu than Clarke could handle. It had been a long time since she was their medic, tasked with taking care of every cut, bruise, broken arm and grounder arrow, that they'd endured on the ground, before anyone else had landed, when it was just the 100 against the rest of the stupid, violent world. They weren't those kids anymore.

The suns were starting to set and they were setting up camp inside the old school by the time they had all licked their wounds and gone over the formalities. So when Bellamy came looking for her later, Clarke pretended to be asleep. She heard him talking in a low voice to Jackson, careful not to wake her. "Is she okay?"

"She's sleeping."

"Yes, but…" She heard him sigh. "Has anyone checked her… her neck? For damage?"

There was a pause. "There'll be time in the morning."

After two minutes of silence, Clarke figured that they were gone. And then hours passed, and she hadn't moved, hadn't even opened her eyes, but she hadn't fallen asleep either. Everyone had settled down in mats on the ground around her. Once their breathing had evened out, she'd found herself enacting a plan she hadn't even allowed herself to think about until she was in the middle of doing it. But it had been in the back of her mind all day. She was leaving.

Clarke sat up, blinking in the darkness, waiting for her eyes to adjust. Bellamy, Murphy, Raven and Abby slept in the room with her. A little farther away were Echo, Emori, Octavia, Jackson. She'd have to be quiet. Her mom was a light sleeper, and Bellamy jerked awake at the slightest sound, but Clarke knew from experience that Raven and Murphy could sleep through almost anything. Or maybe she didn't know that anymore; maybe they'd changed. Either way, she slipped off her shoes into her hand and crept quietly through the dark. She paused at the stack of supplies, wondering what she should take, what she'd need.

In the end, she settled on a gun. She knew she'd need a gun. The food, the water, she'd leave that to her people, who would notice it missing. Of course, they'd notice the gun missing too, but Clarke hoped they'd forgive her for that at least. This was the last betrayal to them she'd make.

And then she was ready. Just like that. A year spent with them, six years waiting for them to come back, and now Clarke was going to leave them forever, her people. Her friends. Her family, once upon a time. But what was the use in stalling? She felt for her dagger in her pocket, the only thing she'd managed to take with her from Earth.

Clarke almost stepped away before something caught her eye. A radio. She shouldn't. She really shouldn't. After all, they didn't have that many. But her fingers curled around it anyway and she slipped it into her pocket. Bellamy stirred behind her and Clarke froze, for one heart-stopping moment, thinking he'd wake up and catch her and make all of this harder than it needed to be. But then he settled back down and she could breathe again.

No wasting time now. She slipped out the door and into the cool night air. It was easier to breathe out here. She put her shoes back on. She was only ten feet away from the door when she heard a voice behind her. "Leaving without telling anybody? Classic Clarke Griffin move."

Clarke's stomach sank. It took her a second to understand what Murphy was referring to, but when she did, she turned around, slowly. He was standing an arm's length away from her. Either he'd gotten stealthier or she would need to work on her survival skills more because she hadn't heard a thing. "You weren't even there after Mount Weather, Murphy."

"No, but I've heard the stories." They stood there a moment in the silence. They were a few feet apart, but it felt like he was far away, maybe so far she could never cross the distance between them. It was funny. She had known her friends wouldn't be happy with her, but she was surprised that Murphy seemed to be taking it hardest, after Raven. But maybe it wasn't so weird. Cockroaches protect their own. So when she left Bellamy in that pit, she was putting Murphy's family at risk. Clarke wouldn't have forgiven herself either.

"This isn't like that," she finally said, but the words sounded weak even to her.

Murphy laughed, but it wasn't a happy sound. "So, why now? Or were you just planning on leaving while we were sleeping since the moment you got out of cryo?"

Clarke wished he would just let her go in peace. She didn't know if there was anything she could say to him that would make him understand so she just settled for the truth. "You were there today. You saw me trying to - you saw how the eclipse affected me." As she mentioned her psychosis, Murphy shifted a little, looking a little less sure of himself. "I heard my mom telling me that I was the toxin. And that if I wanted to get rid of it, I needed to eliminate myself." Clarke shrugged. "There's more than one way to do that."

"But that was a hallucination."

"It didn't come from nowhere."

Murphy paused. Clarke took the opportunity to take a small step back, closer to her escape. "Do you think Bellamy would agree?" he said, catching her by surprise. "That you're toxic?"

Clarke blinked, taken aback, and then reached up and gingerly touched the bruises around her neck, still pulsing with pain. "These didn't come from nowhere either."

"So that's it? You're just gonna go off on your own in the middle of the night? Clarke, this planet is dangerous. You saw what happened to Shaw."

Clarke looked away. She was glad she wouldn't have to tell Raven she couldn't save him. "I was on my own for six years on Earth, and I'm still standing."

"Yeah, but that was Earth. You don't even know what's edible here. And what if there's another eclipse?"

If Clarke didn't know better, she'd almost say he cared whether she lived or died. "My psychosis only makes me want to hurt myself. And I won't want to do that if I'm far away enough that I can't hurt anyone anymore."

"And if you're wrong?"

Clarke shrugged. "Then I'm wrong."

There was a heavy silence. Nothing left to say. Clarke was leaving - he couldn't change her mind, and he knew that now and Murphy wasn't one to beg. Not that he'd have any reason to. So Clarke turned around and started walking again. She heard his voice behind her. "Be careful." She stopped, turning, waiting for him to say more. Murphy was looking away, down at the ground. "Just don't get yourself killed or anything," he muttered. "We don't want Bellamy to lose his freaking mind. We've got enough to deal with."

Clarke shook her head, turning again, speaking over her shoulder as she walked. "I'll be fine. And so will Bellamy. It won't be the first time I died. And he recovered just fine the last time around."


	2. The Morning After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy wakes up, ready to face the consequences of the day before. Murphy has some surprising news for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me posting this at midnight? god tier self sabotage. also sorry to everyone who thought this was a one shot bc my dumbass marked it wrong. it is not. i don't know exactly how many chapters it will have, but it is entirely plotted out, so it will be finished, mark my words! 
> 
> anyways, i hope you enjoy this chapter, it's... hopefully good? writing for bellamy can be harder than writing for clarke, especially post s4 bellamy. but. enjoy.

Even though Bellamy had been on the ground for a while before this, it was still strange to wake up to the sun. He'd grown up in space, and then he went back for six years, and the only light he got there was the tinny, artificial lights that he'd grown up with. Now that he knew what the sun felt like, he truly understood the difference between the two. That was what Bellamy missed the most when he went back to the Ark. Well, almost. But the other thing was never coming back.

Or so he thought. He'd thought a lot of things would be different when he came back to the ground. But some things, god, some things were exactly the same as they were six years ago. He thought he'd changed so much, and he had, but in a lot of ways he was exactly the same. Especially every time he glanced over and caught a glimpse of blonde hair that the sun had turned golden. Of course, now the sun he was waking up to (or the suns, he should say) made him try and kill his best friends the day before. So he and the sun had a complicated relationship right now.

But it was still a nice feeling to wake up to light pressing onto his eyelids. Sometimes it felt like a fresh start. Bellamy could use one of those. He could always use one of those. It was him with his hands around Clarke's throat, he was the one to hurt her this time. The one to almost - it was hard to even think about it. His memories were fogged with anger and confusion, but he remembered the look in her eyes. He remembered that she looked scared.

They had a lot they still needed to talk about. Didn't they always? But when he looked over to where he'd seen Clarke last, asleep and turned away from him, there was nothing there. Her mat was still rolled out though, and her backpack that she'd found yesterday was next to it, so Bellamy knew she'd be back.

He sat up, blinking the last few lingering traces of sleep out of his eyes. He looked around. Everyone else seemed to be sleeping still, except Murphy's mat was empty too. Careful not to wake anyone, Bellamy stood, heading over to the table which held all of their supplies. He felt a twinge of guilt as his hands wrapped around a gun, but he shook it off. Monty wanted them to better, not stupid. Guns were only a precaution. Though, after yesterday, maybe none of them should have weapons that could kill. Bellamy didn't know what he would have done - what any of them would have done - if they'd come to their senses and found that they'd done real damage, that they'd hurt, or killed, someone they loved.

But he did hurt someone he loved. Bellamy frowned, turning around and heading out the door. He didn't notice one of the guns missing. Not yet. He figured Clarke and Murphy were hanging outside together, and his heart lifted a little at the thought. Maybe they were reconciling their differences. Things had been pretty tense between the two for the past few days. It would be worse now that Raven had come down.

Bellamy loved Raven, of course he did. She was his family. And he knew her really well. And he knew that sometimes it was hard for her to see things outside of just black and white. It would take time, that was all, for her to come around. Time that, thanks to Monty, they had now. The air that had just turned them against each other the day before felt cool and refreshing. A fresh start. They'd already fucked that one up, but maybe it wasn't too late.

Murphy was alone when Bellamy found him, sitting with his back against a building over by the water. Clarke was nowhere in sight. The first surge of panic wormed its way inside Bellamy. He couldn't help it. He spent six years thinking Clarke was dead. Every time she turned a corner he was afraid that she'd suddenly disappear or he'd wake up and realize that this was just a cruel dream made by an algae-muddled mind. But maybe Clarke was just exploring one of the houses.

Bellamy walked up to Murphy. "You're up early for a change."

Murphy looked up at Bellamy with an expression resembling something like dread. He shrugged. "Yeah, well. Couldn't sleep."

Bellamy sat down, laying a hand on Murphy's shoulder. "Yeah. I get it… Yesterday was -"

"Don't worry about it, Bellamy. Wasn't your fault that the first day we set foot on this planet, it already tries to kill us. I think it took us about a week to turn on each other on Earth, so hey, we broke our record."

Bellamy couldn't find it in himself to laugh, and neither could Murphy apparently, so they sat in silence a few moments, listening to the sounds of the bugs that, thankfully, had returned. "Hey, have you seen Clarke?"

Murphy closed his eyes, saying nothing. And then he sighed, saying, "Yeah, I saw her."

Bellamy had lived with Murphy too long to be able to ignore the signs that something was wrong. "Something wrong?"

"Bellamy -"

"What happened? Is she okay?" He couldn't stop replaying what he'd done to her yesterday, and now he was worried that maybe he really had hurt her. He should have had Jackson wake her up last night.

"I don't know," Murphy said, which was the last thing Bellamy wanted to hear.

"What do you mean, you don't know? Where is she?"

"I don't know," Murphy said again, sounding tired. "She left."

It took a moment for Murphy's words to sink in. "When?" Bellamy asked. His voice sounded hoarse.

"Last night. While we were sleeping."

There was just white noise in Bellamy's head, and nothing else. Words came out without him even thinking about them first. "Why?"

Murphy was quiet for a long time before responding. "I think that's for her to tell you."

Bellamy was about to snap back that she wasn't here to tell him anything. He was about to lash out at his friend because he was hurting, an instinct he'd thought he'd gotten rid of after six years, but apparently not, when he heard Miller call from the school. "Hey, Bellamy? We're missing a gun."

Bellamy stood up, glad to have a distraction even though his mind was still spiraling. Murphy was close behind him. "I took one."

"No, I figured that. I mean there are two gone. Unless Murphy's got one?"

Murphy held his hands up in mock surrender. "Empty-handed, I'm afraid."

"And we're missing a radio."

Bellamy stopped. Then he ran. "Let me see the other one."

"Bellamy, what's going on?"

"Now, Miller."

Murphy fell into step beside him. "Shit," he was saying under his breath. "This is bad."

Confused, Bellamy turned to Murphy to ask what that meant, but within a moment Miller had thrust the radio into Bellamy's hand. He seemed to know that something serious was going on and that he shouldn't ask just yet, but Bellamy could tell there were questions burning on his friend's tongue. But he couldn't focus on that. His finger hovered over the call button. What could he possibly say to her? What would make her come back? "Clarke, come in" he said, pushing down. He waited for a response, hearing none. "Clarke, I know yesterday was bad, but please don't run from this. Please just -" He took a deep breath. "Please just come back and we can talk about it, okay? We can figure it out together."

There was only silence on the other end. In his heart, he already knew she wouldn't answer. He didn't even know if the signal would get through. It wasn't going through yesterday, but that was all the way from space. Clarke was here, somewhere on the ground, he just didn't know how to get to her. "Let me see that," Murphy said, snatching the radio from Bellamy's hands. He took ten long strides away from him and Miller, but Bellamy could still hear what he was saying. "Clarke, if you can hear me, ditch the fucking radio."

"Murphy, what the hell?" Bellamy said, storming toward him.

Murphy ignored him, shaking his head. "And here I was, thinking you were smart enough to go off on your own. Your funeral." His voice was bitter and cutting. He shoved the radio into Bellamy's chest. "Take it."

"What was that about? Why would you tell her to get rid of the radio?"

Murphy was walking away, arms crossed, angry. "Doesn't matter. She'll either do it or she won't do it. We'll never know."

Never. That was such a large word, large enough to open a chasm under Bellamy's feet and swallow him whole. Even after Mount Weather, he knew he'd see her again. The only time he was sure he'd lost Clarke forever was after Praimfaya. But Murphy was right. She could go away now and never come back. Or worse. Bellamy couldn't think about that.

He went back inside, laid down on his mat, and shut his eyes. He couldn't get back to sleep, but he didn't want to talk to anyone, not right now. Maybe not for a long time.

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

A few hours later, Murphy had done him the service of telling everyone what happened to Clarke. Abby was taking it pretty hard, but she hadn't gone looking. Not yet. Jordan seemed confused. He asked about Madi.

Madi. Bellamy had almost forgotten. How could Clarke go and leave behind her child? It didn't make sense. Nothing made sense. But somehow Murphy knew so much more than Bellamy did and he just wasn't telling him because it "wasn't his to tell". Murphy had never been noble before, so why start now?

Well, at least he'd told everyone to give Bellamy some space, which was nice. He was out by the water. The radio beckoned to him like a siren from the old myths he used to read to his sister. He had gotten better at resisting temptation, but lately things were feeling stupidly like old times. He didn't even try to stop himself.

"Clarke, do you copy?" Silence. "Clarke, come in." Nothing but static. "Look, I know it's been a hard few weeks. Give or take a hundred years. But I can't help you if you're not here. And you can't help Madi. Clarke, what about Madi? Your daughter?"

There was a crackle on the other end. "Tell her I'm sorry." Clarke's voice. So she was alive.

"Tell her yourself!" Nothing. "Clarke, please come back. Please don't - Clarke. Don't do this. Don't leave things like this." Nothing. Nothing, nothing, nothing. "Either answer me now, or you'll never hear from me again. Is that what you want?" He waited. He waited and waited and when there was still nothing on the other end, he muttered, "Fine," he stood up, and he threw the radio into the water, just like he'd done seven years ago when a girl in a pod came down to earth and he didn't want to get in trouble with the ark. The deja vu hit him almost as strongly as the immediate regret. But the radio was gone now. No getting it back.

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

Later that evening, Jackson found an old set of razors that someone left behind, but some of them looked new and unused. "Didn't have these in the bunker." He and Miller stood by a mirror, carefully shaving, seeming lighter than they had in ages.

They asked Murphy if he wanted to join in, but Emori told him, "If you shave the beard, I'll dump you again." When they asked Bellamy, he almost said no. But he somehow found himself making his way over to the mirror. There were razors and scissors left out by the sink. Jackson and Miller had finished and left the bathroom. It was just Bellamy and his reflection.

He'd thought he'd changed so much over those six years he spent in space. But right now, he still felt like the same stupid, irrational kid who got left by Clarke after Mount Weather, the kid who let his emotions take over, who let his heart rule his head. He had tried to be both. But looking in the mirror, with his beard gone, and his hair short, looking at the echo of who he was, just a little older, just a little more world-weary, it felt right. Nothing had changed, not really. You should be able to see that on the outside too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> do you get why murphy doesn't like that clarke took a radio? if you don't, fear not, it will be addressed. also yes, i shaved the beard. i hope it worked for the plot, but honestly, i just... really hate the beard. i hate it so much. it makes me sad in my heart. so i shaved it bc this is my fic and i make the rules.
> 
> anyway, hit me up on tumblr @eleanorschidis, and leave me a comment sayin whatcha think if you got the time


	3. Discovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke finds it harder to survive on her own than it was on Earth. But that's alright, because before she knows it, she's not on her own anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay sorry that i haven't posted in a hot sec, but i was trying to figure out how to go about this chapter which resulted in.... this unfortunate thing. i hope you like it! it's informative. but it's still kinda filler. updates should come more frequently now that i have officially graduated (yay!), and don't worry. i have never abandoned a fic before, and i am not about to start now. so that said, let's just get into it. bellamy's pov will come next chapter. :))

Slipping back into surviving on her own was like slipping back into your winter coat again at the end of autumn. Not that Clarke would know much about it, but she'd read about winter in books on the Ark. There wasn't much of a winter on the ground. It probably chalked up to years of radiation, but either way, Clarke never froze to death, so she didn't really mind. She'd had enough to worry about during those six years.

And now, here she was again. She'd found a small pond with water that looked clear enough, and she thought about boiling the water to purify it, but then she thought, screw it. Drinking that water plain went against everything she had trained herself to do for years, but it was nice to realize that none of it actually mattered. She didn't have to keep herself alive so she could see her friends one day, she didn't have to keep herself alive because she had an eleven-year-old to worry about, she didn't have to keep herself alive to be a leader to her people. She owed it only to herself.

That feeling was… kind of amazing. Everything was still a fucking mess, but the stakes for Clarke had gotten drastically smaller. She wasn't responsible for anyone else. It still hurt when the hunger pains set in, though. Murphy was right. She had no idea what was edible or not, but after a day and a half of running on empty, when Clarke saw a berry bush off to the side, she took her chances. They weren't poisonous exactly, but maybe not entirely edible. Or maybe they just didn't sit well with her, because two hours later, she was throwing them up. By the end of her third day, Clarke knew she was really sick. She needed to eat. She was lightheaded and dizzy.

But what she had said to Bellamy only a few days before (was it really such a short time ago?) was true. She had no idea how to survive down here. It was day four that some sort of delirium started to set in. At least Clarke had water. But she'd been walking for days. She couldn't get back to camp if she wanted to. And even now, she didn't. Except for a voice, not coming from the radio that was still in her pocket, but from inside of herself, saying that leaving wasn't enough. That maybe they'd waste resources looking for her. But who would bother? Still, the voice told her that they needed to know she was gone. Forever. They needed to know that much for sure.

She pulled the radio out of her pocket, too starved and delirious to stop herself. "Bellamy," she said. Just like when she was almost out of water on the ground, before she'd found Madi. Incoherent, and desperate. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, I'm so…" Her voice tapered off. "I think I'm dying. Shit." She clicked the radio off. What was she trying to do? Get him to come after her? Maybe a part of her did want that - Six years ago, he would have. But now? Clarke clicked it on again, leaning against a tree. "I'm fine. I'm sorry and I'm fine." She slipped the radio back in.

It was like a drug, one that she was trying to wean herself off of. Sometimes, though, addicts die during detox. More likely it would be the hunger that got her. Or maybe there was poison in the water, or any number of things, but somehow Clarke managed to keep walking. She didn't know for how long, or how many stumbling steps she took. She barely knew where she was. She barely remembered she wasn't on Earth anymore. Blackness edged her vision. She was on the ground without knowing how she got there.

But before she completely lost consciousness - and this is where Clarke knew the delirium was fully upon her now - she swore she heard voices. She swore she felt a hand on her arm. And the sky - had it turned red?

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

When Clarke came to, she was tied up. Fucking of course she was. She was in some sort of tent, something that achingly reminded her of her first days on Earth with the 100. Her stomach was growling, so she knew she wasn't dead. The bowl of soup sitting on a table to her left made her almost cry with longing. But she was chained to some stupid chair, probably about to be tortured and beaten and disbelieved whenever the people who had found her came back into the room.

She would never know peace. How could she even imagine what it would be like? There was a rustling at the opening to the tent and Clarke let her head drop and her eyes closed. "It's okay, Garrison. Go get restrained. I'll take care of her," a voice said. A woman's. She sounded young, maybe Clarke's age or younger.

Shit. Take care of her? Did that mean kill her?

"If you're sure. I'd say from the looks of the sky, we only have to worry for about… six hours. If you find anything out, take note." That was a man's voice. He sounded older. And after a rustle, Clarke could tell he was gone. She could still smell the soup, but she forced herself to concentrate. The girl came close to the chair. Her touch was gentle, and she laid a hand on Clarke's cheek. It took everything in Clarke not to flinch. And then the girl's hand was pulling Clarke's eye open and as soon as she saw the pupils - alert, awake - the girl recoiled.

Slowly, Clarke raised her head and opened her eyes. The girl was young, Clarke had been right about that. She had long black hair and smooth, dark skin. She was beautiful. She was smiling. "Why didn't you just say you were awake?" she said to Clarke, a hand pressed to her chest in surprise.

"Why am I tied up?" Clarke answered, levelly.

The girl sighed and walked towards the table, picking up the bowl of soup. "You just have bad timing. I'm sure you have a lot of questions. Hopefully, I can answer all of them. But first, we need to get some food in you. You were in pretty bad shape when we found you." The girl sat in a chair and lifted the spoon towards Clarke's lips. It took everything in Clarke not to open her mouth and eat. "I'm Elysia. What's your name?"

Clarke knew this tactic. Trying to become friends with your hostage. But fine, she'd bite. "Clarke."

"Okay, Clarke, would you please let me get some food in you before you die of starvation?" Too hungry to hold out any longer, Clarke nodded, opening her mouth. That soup was the best thing she'd ever tasted, but probably just because it was the only thing she'd tasted in days. "Let me tell you," Elysia said, "as many questions as you have, I probably have you beat. Are you from Earth?" There was a shine in Elysia's eyes that made Clarke realize she was actually really interested, like she really wanted to know.

"You could say that."

"Well, that gives me about a million more questions, but let me answer yours. I don't know how long you've been here, but if you were on Sanctum a week ago, then I assume you're familiar with the effects of the eclipse?"

"It's happening again? Already?" Clarke's mind flew to Bellamy and Murphy and the others. Would they be okay? Yes, they would. They'd have to be. They had each other.

"We call it an aftershock. Sometimes, after the eclipse, there's a little bit of leftover residue or something in the air. I don't really know the specifics. When you wake up, I can get someone a lot more experienced to explain it to you. But the sky turns red." Elysia gave Clarke another spoonful of soup.

"Why aren't you tied up? What if you try and kill me?"

"I've always been immune. Some people are. We don't know how to explain that one. Just lucky, I guess. How about you, are you immune?"

Clarke shook her head.

"Well, that's okay. There'll be time to talk when you wake up."

"What do you mean?"

Elysia gave Clarke a puzzled look. "There's no need to endure psychosis if you don't have to. There's a sedative in the soup. Sorry. Not enough sleep patches to go around."

Clarke's breath caught. She almost spat out the broth in her mouth, but then she calmed down. Everything Elysia was saying made sense. And even if she was lying, what did it matter to Clarke? It didn't. Not yet, at least. And god, she was still so hungry. So she let Elysia feed her the rest of the soup. She started to feel the pull down into darkness, the sluggishness that came blissfully and mercifully, and for once, Clarke went down without a fight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wacky right??? anyway. a better chapter will come next time. meanwhile, follow me on tumblr @eleanorschidis, and if ya have any feelings about this fic i would LOVE to hear them :)

**Author's Note:**

> hit me up on tumblr @eleanorschidis (i'm probably changing my url soon to bellamysgriffin bc let's be honest. im a ho. but right now im eleanorschidis.)


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